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Time Out
18 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Time Out
The Spare Room
Many of us try not to think about death too much. Even if it is discussed or thought about, it's considered in the abstract – a distant experience we will deal with someday, maybe later. From beloved Australian novelist Helen Garner, The Spare Room brings the later to now in an unflinchingly raw and brutal confrontation with death. Adapted and directed by Belvoir St Theatre 's artistic director Eamon Flack (Counting and Cracking), these heavy themes are carried with compassion, humour and drama in an evocative performance that lingers long after the final moment. After going through multiple rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, Nicola (Elizabeth Alexander) decides to stay with her old friend Helen (Judy Davis) in Melbourne for three weeks while she undertakes an alternative cancer treatment. From Vitamin C-infused IV drips to sitting naked in 'ozone saunas', these alternative therapies claim to destroy cancer much in the same manner an octopus can break rocks. (Their words, not mine.) The three weeks force both Nicola and Helen to go beyond the platitudes and formalities, and to confront the raw and infuriating experience of both having a terminal illness, and supporting a loved one through it. a provocative portrayal of the communal experience of death The play commences with a profound silence, held by Helen for a moment longer than comfortable. Davis's command and authority are masterfully established in this stillness, and do not falter for the rest of the performance. With skill and precision, Davis is able to balance her character's deeply loving and tender side with the angry and pragmatic. There's an air of Fleabag to her perfectly-timed breakings of the fourth wall. (Perhaps this could be Phoebe Waller-Bridge's next inspiration? There's even a mention of a guinea pig, too!). It's a performance that pulls you in with a stare and refuses to let go. Equally as moving and complex is Alexander's performance, as she juggles the pain of Nicola's cancer journey with her resilience and hope. Alexander embodies a compassionate lens within her characterisation of Nicola, a woman whose unbridled optimism will not be tamed by the prospect of death. The internal conflict between empathising with Nicola and bewilderment at her health decisions deepens the emotional tension, raising questions about agency, denial, and how we choose to face death. The lead duo is supported by a strong ensemble, with Emma Diaz, Alan Dukes and Hannah Waterman morphing seamlessly between the various roles they portray. The characters are enhanced by Mel Page 's lived-incostume design. This narrow snapshot of Nicola and Helen's lives doesn't leave much room for flamboyant and extravagant attire, but the understated costumes speak volumes, grounding each character in authenticity and allowing the actors' performances to take centre stage. The live musical performance from cellist Anthea Cottee (composed by Steve Francis) creates a haunting undertone, foregrounding Nicola's imminent death against the backdrop of her and Helen's humorous quips and day-to-day exasperations. (However, the non-diegetic score at times undermines the naturalistic dialogue, sacrificing realism for an oversaturation of rhythmic dread.) In translating Garner's novel for the stage, Flack manipulates dramatic time in order to craftily build on the themes frustration and sacrifice. The almost two-hour runtime (with no intermission) coupled with the (intentionally curated) dragging pace and Paul Jackon 's lighting design (a poetic exploration of the passage of time) allows the audience to experience Helen's impatience and fury in real time. From the longer days to the struggling nights with Nicola, you don't just grow to empathise with Helen – her frustration becomes your own. In collapsing the distance between character and audience, Flack reminds us that this story isn't only about the dying, but about those left to care for them. The Spare Room is a confronting yet artistic meditation on dying and death. Although occasionally slowed down by its own weight, it is a provocative portrayal of the communal experience of death. The play doesn't try to soften the reality of death, but instead offers a moment of clarity, encouraging us to sit with the discomfort just a little longer than we might usually allow ourselves to.
Time Out
24-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
Big Girls Don't Cry
Friendship is at the heart of Big Girls Don't Cry, a gorgeous slice-of-life drama that takes us back to 1960s Redfern, where three young Aboriginal women are gearing up for the biggest night of the year – the Deb Ball. Playwright and star Dalara Williams balances the bitter and the sweet in this engaging rom-com-inflected drama. As Cheryl (Williams), Queenie (Megan Wilding) and Lulu (Stephanie Somerville) navigate life's ups and downs, audiences at Belvoir St Theatre are gifted with an all-too-rarely seen window into Blak sisterhood. While for these women, injustice may tarnish everything from going to work to walking the streets, where racist cops roam – nothing in the world can shake the sacred joy of a trio of girlfriends gathered in a bedroom and getting ready for a night out, tearing through outfit options and gossiping. Not even Cheryl's concern for her beloved Michael (Mathew Cooper), who's serving in Vietnam. However, could the distracting pull of the charming Milo (Nic English) be strong enough to tear her away from re-reading the same old love letters? Inspired by her grandmothers' stories and snapshots of history found in family photo albums, Williams has crafted an uplifting and entertaining drama that also doesn't shy away from the violence and injustices of our all-too-recent history, and prompts us to question how much has really changed. Big Girls is not necessarily ground-breaking in its form, and it needn't be, especially with a cast this good. Dalara Williams balances the bitter and the sweet in this engaging rom-com-inflected drama... an all-too-rarely seen window into Blak sisterhood In particular, Megan Wilding cements her place as one of the most charismatic presences on the Sydney stage as Queenie – she can convey more with a twitch of her eyebrow or a tilt of her head than any spoken dialogue could ever hope to. In a moment of tremendous vulnerability, she delivers a tearful confession about her fear of letting in the one man who could love her fully – a speech that will strike a chord with any misfit woman who has been told that she is both 'too much' and 'not enough'. Queenie's humour, her outgoingness, and her love of an attention-grabbing dress are all part of the armour she wears to survive a cruel world. But this script also doesn't do her the disservice of stripping away her unique qualities in order to allow her to grow. Meanwhile, Guy Simon deserves an honourable mention for his performance as Cheryl's outspoken brother Ernie, it's an interesting contrast to his recent turn on the Belvoir stage as the star of Jacky, and his evolving dynamic with Wilding's Queenie is particularly delightful. Heartbreak High star Bryn Chapman Parish also holds his own as a detestable police officer; and Nic English gives us an "other man" that we can root for in Milo, also convincingly holding space for the precarious line he walks as a second-generation Italian immigrant in 1960s Australia. The production does crave a little more polish. For example, the revolving stage makes for some interesting movement and smooth transitions, but at times, it can be difficult to hear the actors' voices over the rumble of its operation. Director Ian Michael is certainly not taking as many big swings as he did with his recent reimagining of Picnic at Hanging Rock for STC, and perhaps that's a good thing – getting too experimental here would only distract from the deeply human drama of it all. However, for a debut presentation, Big Girls is a deeply charming and hopeful story that harnesses the great empathy machine of theatre to achieve one of the greatest things it can do – which is to understand ourselves, others, and our society more deeply. It is an accessible entry point to learn more about the Indigenous rights movement in this country, the empowering legacy of Aboriginal debutante balls, and also, it's bloody good drama that we need to see more of.
